


Living With Determination

by pseudomancer



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 16:55:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13885104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudomancer/pseuds/pseudomancer
Summary: Shirou makes the ultimate sacrifice to save Kiritsugu from an early death. How will his father live with nothing remaining whole?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have another work with the same title as this. I judge that work as pretty much dead (it lives on in my brain, but I'll never care to write it), but the working idea endures in this story.
> 
> I was invigorated to revisit this after having someone I know tragically lose their son.
> 
> I'm planning to make these chapters very short, but hopefully frequent enough to justify their shortness.

The days after the Holy Grail War were hard and with every day that passed they only became harder. His body eroded rapidly and were it not for Shirou's needs he would surely have collapsed and died within a year of the Great Fuyuki Fires. However, he knew he could not last forever and his time to part would soon arrive. 

"Have a good day at school, Shirou."

His adopted son looked at him with a look that was now all too familiar. A dull, but challenging gaze. He was a rebellious child in some ways - seeking magecraft against his advice, latching onto the concepts of heroism and bravery. Ultimately, he knew Shirou was still just a child. Eventually he would grow out of this phase, once he realized that he wanted to live. Once one knows what they truly desire, they'll realize their shallow ideals are worth giving up. He had learned that Irisviel and Illya were certainly worth sacrificing his ideals for, however he had only learned that in hindsight. Shirou would some day find friends, a woman, a passion, or something; a creative spirit, a vision - and he would strive to make that dream arrive. Even if he would never succeed, he would surely abandon boyhood notions of sacrifice and heroism. It was inevitable of all children to eventually mature like that. People like himself were a rarity, but even his stubbornness had finally given out. Shirou seemed to see that too, that his spark had long died out. 

"Dad. What do you want for dinner today?"

Shirou was going to be going into high school soon. He hoped to see him graduate into it. He could imagine what the auburn-haired boy might look like as a man; he wondered what sort of person he would become. He had noticed Shirou had a certain keenness for chores and cooking, so perhaps he might become a chef? He was also athletically gifted enough that he would likely lead an active lifestyle, while athletically uncoordinated enough that he might not neglect his studies too much. He wondered if Shirou would someday have a child like Illya. He wondered what such a child might look or act like, if she might say, "Papa," to him, if he were still alive.

"Whatever you like, Shirou. Perhaps something Western?"

"Okay!"

He had to shake his head at Shirou's exuberance. As skilled as Shirou was in the kitchen for his age, he still had a lot to learn when it came to preparing Western cuisine. He didn't mind though, anything Shirou made tasted good to him. Maybe that was a sign his senses were further dulling, but he doubted it. He would sooner die than lose that too.

What little did he know, that behind the earnest golden eyes of a child, was a look of utterly singular determination. The eyes of one who could see the target. Aim just a little past that. And fly.


	2. Chapter 2

"Death, walk with me." It was a saying he had heard once from a magus he had been hired to slay. That magus was an ordinary necromancer, one who defiled the deceased and brought them back to life as servants. At the time, he had not given the aria's words much thought, but they now heavily weighed upon his mind. To say those words - that man must have had a frighteningly hollow soul. It could be said that death walks with all of us. One day, any thing will die. Stars, planets, people, bacteria, atoms; nothing can escape their natural entropy. However, inviting death; summoning it and asking it to follow at one's side... Yet here and now he wished he had the strength to say those words. To beg death for its power at any personal cost: he would pay it.

Shirou stood over him dressed in his school clothes. In one hand he held a mana-infused dagger, its outline visibly humming with energy. In his other, he held a holy book, not The Bible, but something more rare and esoteric. With the way the air in the room vibrated there was no doubt in Kiritsugu's mind that it was a mystic code. There was no way a child of Shirou's tender age could generate this much magical force. A bounded field kept him pinned to his bed, his hands and ankles held down with glowing ethereal chains. The gilded metal reminded him of that false-hero, Gilgamesh, but the resemblance was only visual; this was a mystery belonging to the church. How Shirou was performing it, he had no idea, as he knew Shirou lacked True Faith.

Kiritsugu was breathing. When he wasn't breathing, he was shouting. Little else was running through his mind. Shirou was working very advanced magecraft for which he had an inkling of its intent; a spell far beyond the boy's skill or what his unprepared circuits could even begin to handle. He hadn't taught Shirou anything like this, so he had not been prepared at all to stop him from doing something like this.

He was so damned weak, his body sluggish from the ichor of the Grail's curse. He had nothing left in his body he could use to dispel a bounded field like this. All he could do was look on and feel his numb nerves sing in terror. Hope and fear congealed into a mysterious sort of nirvana - Shirou was smiling a smile that brought more tears to Kiritsugu's eyes, while his words echoed softly through the room-

Sealed with the outer stone,

The kingdom no life has ever known,

By leave of Kings returned from Babylon,

Or hope that sings in the Gardens of Avalon,

A promise eternal that I shall keep,

The solace that all want in eternal sleep

Fill. Fill. Fill. Open The Gates.

And Pass Through Ataraxia.

Kiritsugu could only feel his disbelief crumble under the wrenching weight of watching Shirou plunge the humming dagger straight into his chest. It tore through his small, boyish heart. It twisted a pained expression into small lips that ran fast and red with blood. As agony crept into Shirou's shaking, collapsing frame, Kiritsugu watched as the shining pride of a foolish hero was hollowed out by a quick and sudden death; Shirou's body gleaming like a star as flesh and blood were broken down into a dazzling, honey-colored mana. A fine dust that floated over toward him.

All around and underneath Kiritsugu, the bounded field exploded with potent life energy. It flowed into his veins, surging into his chest and heart-- a purity of soul that cleansed the wicked curse from his body, chasing it out through his gasping lips. His head sagged back as he lost consciousness.

If only it had just been a nightmare.


End file.
